The Most Noble House of Raa
by Democratus
Summary: Meet Nicholas Raa, a first year attending Hogwarts, youngest of the ancient House Raa. All the adventures and such that one might normally find in a place like Hogwarts, but with the added complications of being a member of a family that has long since seen it's glory days go by- even the Malfoys hate them. And Nick has a notorious talent for finding trouble... T 4 safety
1. Chapter 1-Preparations and Aspirations

Rain battered the rooftops and streets of Barton Avenue like a hail of bullets, forcing the ordinary-looking pedestrians who were out doing their business to scurry into the shelter of the nearest building until the foul weather had cleared off. However, the frightful precipitation did not seem to dissuade a small, tawny owl from accomplishing its mission. The bird dropped the letter from Hogwarts on the doormat of 16 Barton Avenue before flying off again into the stern, grey clouds surrounding the place. Inside the ordinary-looking house, a young boy had been waiting with bated breath and much excitement for this letter. The house was far from ordinary on the inside, however. The boy rushed out of his bedchamber, down a long hallway and hurled himself down the spiraling staircase that led to the ground floor, nearly knocking over his older brother, and opened the door to retrieve his letter. "Dad! DAD!" He shouted with glee, "My letter came! It came!" "One moment, son." Said a voice from another room, and then a tall, tired-looking man with a sharp nose, steely grey eyes and long, dirty blonde hair entered the entry hall from the adjacent kitchen. "Ah, yes. Your Hogwarts letter. I've been expecting it all day...weather must have delayed service." He grinned at his son. "Go on then Nicholas, open it." The boy, Nicholas, was only too happy to oblige. There, in green ink, was the usual Hogwarts letter, inviting Nicholas Gerald Raa to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Nicholas' brother, Francis, came back down the stairs, raising an eyebrow. "I take it the letter arrived?" The father, Canan Raa, and Francis shared a look while Nick danced with excitement. "When will we be going to Diagon Alley to collect his things? I got my booklist as well, yesterday afternoon, just before the rain started." Mr. Raa thought for a moment, and then said that they could go tomorrow. Nicholas cheered with excitement and rushed up to his room. Francis shook his head, muttering, "I wish I was that excited to go back to Hogwarts." And he turned and followed his brother upstairs. had already turned and went back into the kitchen, where a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ lay on the table next to a mug of coffee and a wand. He sighed and returned to his seat at the table, reading the news with poorly-disguised disinterest. Upstairs, Nick was in the sitting room, where a cozy fire warmed the atmosphere, and many comfy-looking chairs were arranged around it. Bookshelves and display cases containing Raa family heirlooms lined the walls. Two ghosts occupied the two biggest, comfiest chairs nearest to the fire. The ghosts of Augustus and Tiberius Raa had been there longer than anybody still alive could remember, perpetually dozing by the fire. They were both fat old men, nearly identical because they had been brothers in life. Nick ignored them, walking over to a small cupboard in the corner, and, looking to see nobody was watching him, removed a small mirror from it's interior. Closing the cabinet hurriedly, he rushed back to his room, shutting the door behind him. Diving onto his poorly-neatened bed, he gazed into the mirror and whispered, "Hey! Arin! You there?" In a few seconds, his own reflection was replaced by that of a young girl with pale blonde hair and startlingly blue eyes. "Yeah! I just got my letter!" Her eyes practically shone with giddy excitement. "You got yours as well, then?" "Yeah!", said Nicholas, waving it proudly in the air. "We're going to Diagon Alley tomorrow to get my stuff- you lot coming too?" "Of course, where else would we go? I'll ask my mum to see if we can go tomorrow, though. See you there!" Her face disappeared, leaving only his dirty blonde, green-eyed reflection staring back at him. He sighed. It would be impossible to stand the wait for the school year to start. Life in the Raa house was quite dull. The whole place was full of dust, and movements in the vast house were limited to only two floors, as the four others were infested with doxies, boggarts, and at least one ghoul, making the use of these rooms quite impractical. There were only three people living there, just Canan, Francis, and himself. This was, of course, not including the four ghosts. Two of them, Augustus and Tiberius, never left the sitting room. The other, Julianne Raa, stayed upstairs, looking at the stars, and the last, Sir Richard of Elmersbin, was the oldest of the four, and the only one who ever spoke to Nick. Francis had once snuck up to the fifth floor at night, and claimed to have spoken to Julianne, but Nick was hesitant to believe this. He returned his thoughts to Hogwarts. His best friend in childhood, Arin Malfoy, would be there, along with hundreds of young wizards and witches like him, legions of potential friends. Francis had told him all about the subjects and teachers, the secret passages, and of course the food. Nick couldn't wait.

The next day, which happened to be a Tuesday, Nick, Francis, and Canan set out for the Leaky Cauldron, the nearest entrance to Diagon Alley, where Nick and Francis needed to purchase their school supplies. It was close enough to Barton Avenue that the Raas could walk there quickly enough, but their atypical clothing did draw a few glances from passing Muggles, non-wizarding folk. Canan in particular drew some baffled looks, as he was wearing tinted green glasses with a matching green trench coat, green trousers, and black gloves and boots. Nick overheard a Muggle boy snicker to a friend something about a leprechaun, but they were soon past the Muggles and inside the Leaky Cauldron. Nodding to a few wizards by the bar as he strode through the crowded room, Mr. Raa confidently walked over to the disguised entrance, tapped it with his wand, and gestured the boys inside.

Nick soaked in the atmosphere of the place in one word-"Whoah." He had been to Diagon Alley once before, with his brother, but that had been two years ago, and evidently the novelty had not worn off yet. "Come on, Nick- We'll get you some robes, then your books, a wand, and a pet. I thought perhaps a raven, as it is the symbol of House Raa." Mr. Raa and Francis were already striding off in the direction of the tailor's. Nick struggled through the crowd to catch up. Ducking into the robe shop, Mr. Raa strolled over to the counter, and informed the witch working there that his son needed some robes fitted. "And your name is..?" The witch at the desk inquired. "Canan Raa, and my sons Francis and Nicholas." "Right this way, Nick, if you please…" Nick winced for a while as pins and needles were prodded and twisted, money was exchanged, and they were in the wand shop. It was like a blur, Nick was so excited to go to Hogwarts. Inside Ragnar's Wands, Staffs, and other Catalysts for Sorcery, he was met by a pale bald man with a long, twisted scar across his face. "Hello, Canan, Francis." He gestured to Nick. "He needs a wand, I presume?" Mr. Raa nodded, and Ragnar began rummaging through the cramped, dusty, and poorly lit shop, which was crammed with wand boxes, staffs with embedded gemstones, and various other strange objects. He reappeared a moment later with several wands, which he handed to Nick. "Try these." Nick looked at him in confusion. "Wave it around a bit, you'll know which one's the right wand…" Nick obediently picked up the first one, and gave it an experimental swish. The distinct sound of something exploding outside was the only response the wand gave; Ragnar put it back. The second and third had similar results, although the second was slighty more interesting, as it had scorched one of Francis' eyebrows. When Nick waggled the fourth wand, however, a torrent of blue sparks erupted. "Yes! That's the one! 13 inches, willow, dragon heartstring." Ragnar seemed pleased, at least. Mr. Raa was rummaging in his pockets for coin, and asked, "How much, Rags?" Ragnar laughed loudly, and clapped Canan on the back. "You don't pay here, Canan, after all we've been through….", He fixed his eyes on Nick,"May it serve you well, young master Raa."

The rather curious collection of arcane aristocrats was clustered inside Ogbar's Animal Emporium, discussing pets. "I'll take...that one.", said Nick, pointing at a raven in the corner. As the burly man Nick presumed to be Lundo Ogbar retrieved the raven from it's cage, Nick asked Francis how long it was until the term at Hogwarts started. "Just three more days, Nick. This is the fifth time you've asked me…" Lundo returned a momend later with the raven.

"It's named Vergil," Began Lundo,"He's a smart bird, so he dont require much lookin' after. He'll eat anything, as well."

Thanking Lundo profusely, the Raas left the shop, and started towards the exit to Diagon Alley, weaving through the great crowds, when they came to a sudden halt.

"Ah, Scorpius. Good to see you." Sneered Mr. Raa, without a hint of the kindness his words indicated should be there.

"And you, Canan….it's been so long." A nasty smirk crept across the pale-haired man's face. He seemed to be accompanied by his children, a pair of boys the same age as Francis, and his daughter, Arin, whom Nick had spoken to the previous day. Nick knew that the Raa family had always despised the Malfoy family as a matter of principle, but Arin had never seemed too bad to him… he suspected that Scorpius and Canan hadn't gotten along very well as children.


	2. Arrival- Chapter 2

**there. Yes, I do mean you. Thanks for bothering to read this, it means a great deal. R &R if it please you. As you probably guessed, this takes place in the generation AFTER the Cursed Child-just to clear things up a bit. Also, you can probably expect these chapter thingies every week or so, depending on how onerous school gets and/or how lazy I'm feeling. Cheers! (Also, sorry for the wall of text last time. Yeesh.)**

The sound of excited young wizards, owls, exasperated parents, and the other background noise associated with large groups of wizarding children in one place filled Platform 9 ¾. The Raas, having loaded their luggages onto the train already, were saying their goodbyes.

"Do be careful, you two." Mr. Raa looked worried.

"Ah, come on,Dad, it's Hogwarts, what're you worried about?" Francis grinned, and stepped onto the train.

"That's what I'm worried about…"Mr Raa murmured, then he turned to Nick.

"Have fun, and pay attention. Write to me, and ask your brother any questions. He's done all this before, you know!" Mr. Raa ruffled Nick's already unruly hair, and strode off.

Nick wandered around in the train for a bit, and couldn't find Francis, so he just found an empty compartment and decided to sit there. It wasn't long before a young girl with pale blonde hair and blue eyes entered the compartment, and cheerily greeted Nick as she sat down across from him.

"Hello, Nick. I managed to give the rest of my lot the slip, we're alone for now."

Nick was about to respond when several boisterous individuals burst into the compartment, engrossed in a vibrant conversation. Two had scarlet hair, and plentiful freckles, and the other had black hair and green eyes.

"Oh, give it a rest, Elizabeth, they won't put you in Slytherin! I've asked my grandad, and he says-" The black-haired boy stopped, staring at Arin as if she were a pile of horse dung found steaming under a breakfast platter.

"Looky here, mates, I think we've found ourselves a Malfoy!" The two new boys sniggered together, but the red-haired girl looked slightly uncomfortable.

"Lay off, Gerald, why's it matter?" She scolded her nearly-identical brother. She looked at Arin. "She hasn't done anything to you two, so lay off."

The two other boys exchanged a look, and then seemed to notice that Nick was there for the first time.

"Well, hello." Said Gerald. "And what's your name?"

"Nicholas Raa. But call me Nick. Nicholas sounds too formal." Replied Nick.

Gerald seemed satisfied enough by this answer, but the black haired boy interjected.

"Raa? I don't suppose you're related to Canan Raa?"

"Yes, he's my father…"

A shocking grade of malice glittered in the boy's emerald eyes. "Well then. He and my father were… not on the best of terms when they were in school."

 _Who didn't hate my father at Hogwarts?_ Nick thought to himself. "And would your father be, then?"

"Albus S. Potter. Heard of him?"

Nick frowned. "Yes, but only in passing. He works in the Ministry, doesn't he?"

"He's the greatest Auror there ever was. I-"

"From what I hear, he has a passion for arresting innocents."

The Potter boy's face flushed with fury. "He arrests those who deserve it."

"By deserve it, do you mean his personal enemies? Because in that case you'd be correct…" Nick had heard his father talking about the Ministry to Francis earlier that year. He had sounded almost worried, and said that Francis needed to look after Nick if something ever happened to him.

"At least we stand for what's right, unlike that worthless slug of a father you're stuck with. Your entire family is a disgrace to the name of wizard, my dad always said."

Gerald, the Weasley boy, looked surprised. "Whoah mate, you're being a bit of a git, aren't-"

Potter rounded on him. "Don't you start! Your entire family has always just served as a sidekick for my ancestors." A nasty sneer had emerged onto the loathsome youth's face.

"Shut up! All of you!"

The Weasleys, Potter and Nick all turned to face Arin, who hadn't spoken a word since the three other children had entered the compartment. "You're all absolutely pathetic." She spat. "Why should we hate each other just based on the actions of our predecessors? It's stupid."

Nick was inclined to agree, and, by the looks of it, so were Gerald and the Weasley girl. Potter looked mollified. A long silence unwound between the five children before Nick, determined to break the tension, addressed the red-haired girl.

"What's your name, then?"

She seemed glad for the excuse to speak again.

"I'm Lilith Weasley, this is my brother, Gerald, and _that_ is Thomas Potter." She paused for a moment to look at Arin.

"Who's she?"

Arin jutted in before Nick could speak, evidently eager to get a few words in as well.

"I'm Arin. Arin Malfoy."

After another moment of silence, the door to the compartment slid open, and a lanky Prefect wearing the blue colors of Ravenclaw House ducked in.

"You lot will be wanting to get into your school robes." he said. "We're almost at the school."

Nick felt like a brick had been dropped down his throat and into his stomach. The moment he had waited for for so long was so close. The Sorting, the feast, and the following first year of school at Hogwarts was, (finally), about to begin. Everybody in the compartment except Thomas had arrived in their school robes, which, Nick suspected, was due to the fact that Thomas was too busy boasting about his familial status to have been bothered to get into uniform. As he slunk out of the sliding door to change, an air of relief seemed to flood the room.

"Thank goodness he's gone. I can't stand him, always talking about how great his family is. 'My father this, my grandfather that'. Arrogant prick..." Gerald, now that Thomas had vacated the compartment, was taking advantage of his absence to vent his feelings. Before he got the chance to continue, however, they felt the train jerk to a halt, and heard the sound of doors opening and brakes hissing.

"First years, follow me!" A loud voice boomed, magically amplified by the sound of it. Their luggage being taken care of by house elves, the four of them stepped off the train into the crowded station, and made their way through the throngs of other students to find the source of the noise. Eventually, they found a tired-looking wizard with startlingly white hair and wearing bright scarlet robes holding his wand to his mouth to amplify his voice. "First years, this way, please…" He strode off in the direction of the lake, his following of nervous first-years straggling along behind him. After a short walk, they arrived at a series of docks, housing a multitude of small rowboats.

"Four to a boat please, hurry up. We haven't got all night."

Gerald, Lilith, Nick, and Arin clambered into a boat as the rest of the first-years mingled around. They spotted Thomas getting into a boat with two moon-eyed twin girls and a hulking brute of a boy. He shot Nick a nasty look from across the lake, but didn;t get the oppurtunity to say anyting unpleasant, as the tired wizard began to speak again.

"Don't stand in the boats, or make any unneccessary motions, we don't need anybody going for a swim." He stepped into a boat himself, waved his wand, and the small armada of rickety rowboats glided off over the misty surface of the lake. Out of the misty darkness, the entrance to a cave loomed up from the water like the maw of some great sea monster. "Mind your heads, please." Called the wizard. "My name's Professor Trendyll, I will be your Potions master this year, by the way." After a few moments, the multitude of boats stopped at the shore. As the horde of students clambered out, there was a loud splashing noise. Nick turned to find Thomas sloshing around in the shallow water by the shore of the lake. Muttering something under his breath, Professor Tendyll waved his wand, and Thomas was pulled magically onto the shore with the rest of the students, looking as if he wished he could melt into the floor. "Let's be off, then." Called Professor Trendyll as he strode towards the great doors of Hogwarts. As the students hurried to catch up to him, he had already reached the doors, clearly ready to get inside.

"This fellow doesn't seem too cheerful, does he?" Nick whispered to Arin, Gerald, and Lilith. Arin and Lilith nodded their agreement, but Gerald was staring at the doors. Turning around, Nick saw a tall young man with startlingly bright blue hair and a long scar down his left cheek.

" Enter, you're late. What kept you, Hadrian?" The man said, addressing Trendyll.

"This lot here were a bit slow." He replied, gesturing at the gaggle of first-years.

"What did you expect, man? They're new, after all." He turned to address the students. "Come along, then. I will lead you to the Great Hall. By the way," he added," My name is Nathaniel Saberglass, and I will be your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Pleased to meet you."

He stepped inside, and ushered the first-years into the legendary school of magic.

 **I'm really sorry if this seems short compared to the last chapter, but exams are fast approaching and I have less time than normal, so that is why. Cheers!**


	3. Chapter 3- Feasting and Sorting

As the group of first year students arrived outside the Great Hall, Professor Saberglass and Professor Trendyll turned to address them.

"You just stay out here until you're called. Maybe neaten yourselves up a little bit," Said Professor Saberglass, eyeing Nick's hair. He then turned and walked into the hall with Professor Trendyll, and a silence fell among the first years. Nick turned to Lilith and Gerald. "Well, it's been nice to talk to you lot, but…" He shuffled his feet awkwardly," My family's always been Sorted into Ravenclaw for as long as anybody still living cares to remember. And since you lot are Weaselies, I expect you'll be in Gryffindor."

"It's alright, mate." Gerald seemed nonplussed. "It's not like you can't talk to people outside your own House, is it? We can still be friends…"

Lilith grimaced. "At least you're not stuck with that Potter lout and his fan club," she muttered. "The Potters always go to Gryffindor." The two gingers walked off to go stand with the others who were hoping for Gryffindor. Nick looked around for Arin, but couldn't seem to find her, and leaned up against the wall in an attempt to look like he knew what he was doing. He suspected that he wasn't doing a very good job.

Professor Saberglass returned after what seemed like about a decade, and ordered the lot of them to form up in alphabetical order. "We haven't got all night!" After some amount of chaos and confusion amongst the students, they managed to line up, and Saberglass led them down the center of the Great Hall, where a positively ancient old hat covered in patches sat atop an equally ancient stool. After a moment of total silence, a long tear in the hat's cloth opened like a mouth- and began to produce the most horrible croaking noise Nick had ever heard. A couple of Hufflepuffs could be heard snickering, "Lost it's touch a bit, eh?"

After the "song" was completed,(to a round of polite applause from the student body), Professor Trendyll unfurled a large roll of aged-looking parchment, and read from it the name of the first student in line.

"Aang, Zachariah!" He declared. An especially short boy with equally short brown hair nervously crept up to the Sorting Hat, and tentatively placed it on his head. After a brief moment of silence, the Hat produced a hacking cough, causing Zachariah to jump a bit in surprise. The Hat then croaked, "Ravenclaw!" to a round of thunderous applause from the students wearing blue-trimmed robes. Nick glimpsed his older brother, Francis, with his Prefect badge glittering in the torchlight, clapping with the other Ravenclaws. He gave Nick a not-so-inconspicuous wink before returning to his seat.

Nick could not possibly keep track of where everybody was being sorted, he was so excited. He felt almost giddy. After "Kristov, Maggie" was sorted into Slytherin, he heard "Malfoy, Arin." Arin held her head high, white-gold hair glistening in the firelight, and walked confidently up to the battered headgear. She sat down on the stool, and placed the Hat on her head. After a silence that stretched for a thousand millennia, the Hat bellowed, "GRYFFINDOR!" After a moment's pause, there was a smattering of polite applause from the Gryffindor table. Meekly, Arin walked over and sat at the far end of the table, where she was given a wide berth by the others. She seemed almost as surprised as they were.

"Octavian, Mincley" was sorted into Hufflepuff, and then Thomas arrogantly stalked up to the hat, and rammed it onto his head. Strangely, it looked as if he was whispering something fervently under the wide brim of the old hat. After a moment, the hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" almost reluctantly. Seeming relieved, Thomas hurried over to the Gryffindor table, on the opposite end of Arin, and was immediately greeted with unprecedented amounts of applause and adoration, in stark contrast to Arin, who had gotten a stiff reception at best.

Time seemed to pass at the speed of light, and all of a sudden, Trendyll said, "Raa, Nicholas."

Time was flowing at the speed of frozen molasses now. In what felt like slow motion, Nick walked up to the stool, a swarm of angry dragonflies buzzing in his stomach, and placed the ancient hat on his head. A voice that sounded like it was coming from inside his head was whispering, muttering, to itself.

 _A smart one, no doubt about that… braver than his father, though, and stronger than his brother… oh my.. Well this is extraordinary indeed, the lost art of sorcery rarely manifests itself in those so young… Slytherin for the strong, Ravenclaw for the wise, Gryffindor for the brave… But no, he doesn't want to be put in Slytherin, does he? No, he seeks love, affection...strength...power…_

"GRYFFINDOR!"

In a daze, Nick stood up, replaced the hat on the stool, and walked, like a dream, to the Gryffindor table. They were cheering… some of them. Thomas and his band of fanatical worshippers seemed displeased, they were whispering. Nick went and sat across from Arin. She seemed worried.

"Are...are you okay?" She asked, a slight tinge of worry and doubt corrupting the deep ocean blue of her eyes. "You look pale."

Regaining his composure, he straightened slightly and felt himself returning to normal. "Yeah," He began. "Just surprised, is all. My family's always been in Ravenclaw, see." He gestured towards Francis, who simply looked happy that he hadn't been put in Slytherin or Hufflepuff. "And by the looks of it, Potter and his fan club seem to wish that I'd stayed with my brother, and that you'd stayed with yours." Potter, at the other end of the table, seemed to be bragging about some miraculous feat that his forbears had accomplished to an audience of totally devoted toadies.

"Yes. Father always said that Albus was a 'piece of degenerate scum', to use his exact words, so I'm not surprised that his son isn't much better," Arin mutters.

Their malice was interrupted by the arrival of Gerald, followed shortly by Lilith. They took seats on either side of Arin, facing Nick.

"Well mate," said Gerald, grinning, "I guess we won't have to worry about not being able to talk one another, eh?" He chuckled a bit, as did Nick. Gerald turned his attention to Arin. "And this is a change in setting for you too, isn't it? A Malfoy in Gryffindor…" He shook his head, before seeing the venomous glare that Arin was giving him, after which Lilith, witnessing her twin's plight, decided a change in subject was due.

"So, what does your father do, Nicholas?" She inquired, "Our dad works for the Ministry, and so does Thomas'. But I imagine he's already told you…"

Nick brightened a bit. "He's a Curse Breaker, for Gringotts. Brings back all kinds of stuff for them, he's one of the best. He's off in Egypt and such places a lot though- I don't see him as much as I'd like to."

While they were talking, the Sorting had come to an end. A hush fell over the hall, and the four of them quickly looked to the High Table, where it common knowledge that the headmaster was supposed to make a speech. Indeed, the man who must have been the headmaster was standing, walking to the podium, and raised his wand to his mouth as to amplify his voice magically.

"Quiet, everybody…..ys, thank you. I am, as those of you who are returning this year already know, Professor Connell Vulgarius, Headmaster here at Hogwarts for the second year now, after the retirement of dear old Matteus Eppsod."

Nick craned his neck to get a better look at the man, as he could barely see over the taller students. Professor Vulgarius was a short little man with even shorter, bone white hair. His nose, however, was unusually long. This combined with the heavy black coat he was wearing and his short hair gave him the unpleasant appearance of some massive vulture, looking for carrion to feast on.

"I look forward to spending a productive, safe, and Ministry-approved school year with you. Please, enjoy the feast." Professor Vulgarius waved his wand lazily, and walked back to his seat. Platters, plates, dishes and bowls laden with food appeared on all the tables. The goblets filled with various magical beverages, and the first feast of Nicholas Raa's Hogwarts career truly began.

 **Yeah, it's kinda short. Sue me. And for all 3 of the people who actually read this, thanks. You three (or maybe four) are special. Please feel free to leave constructive criticism in the reviews, or just blatant criticism. Whatever floats your boat. Cheers!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Well, I need to offer congratulations to the four people who actually bothered to read all three chapters, and didn't get turned off by my absolutely dreadful writing. I love each and every one of you in a strictly Platonic sense of the word.**

"So, what did you think of our fearless and noble Headmaster, Lilith?" Nick was not enthused with the first impression that he had gotten from Vulgarius in the least.

"I think he's a Ministry-loving prat." Sneered Lilith, "They really are starting to get desperate… the Ministry's running out of gold, you see, and Gringotts is only getting richer… they've responded by trying to sink their talons into every position of power that they possibly can. Or at least that's what Dad always said," she whispered in a slightly softer tone, "when we weren't in the company of our esteemed friend's family." She nodded to Thomas, who was busy explaining his skill set on the Quidditch pitch to a cluster of third-years.

Arin smirked at that. "Funny, because the Ministry can't stop breathing down my dad's neck either. We're always noticing people tailing us when we go out places- probably poorly disguised Aurors. Of course, I'm sure that they're not there on old Harry Potter's orders, even though he's head of the Auror Office according to Dad he's just a figurehead at this point. This smells like Albus's work to me."

Albus S. Potter, as Nick knew from listening his father rant to Francis about how he giving all the banks trouble, was currently Head of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Yeah, nobody in my family's happy with the Ministry right now either," Nick said, "But then, there's only my brother, my father, and I left, so that may not be saying much…" This remark was directed primarily at Lilith, as he had known Arin for long enough to where she already knew the situation, and Gerald was too busy stuffing himself with roast turkey to be involved in the conversation.

"What about your mother?," Lilith asked softly.

"She died a few months after I was born." Nick answered, slightly less excited than he had been before the topic came up. "She accepted a challenge to a duel, from none other than our good friend, Albus Potter. She would have won, too, but when Albus realized he was going to lose, a couple of his goons cursed her from behind." he shot a resentful glance at Thomas, who was still merrily chatting away. "It was a private affair, of course, since duels to the death were, and still are, illegal. Albus and his cronies at the Ministry made sure that her death was a 'tragic accident' in the eyes of the Wizarding public, involving a Muggle automobile."

Lilith stayed quiet for a moment. "Wow," was all she managed to say, before she returned to eating a few roast potatoes.

Nick returned to his food as well, although with less gusto than he had before. Francis had not been lying when he said that the food at Hogwarts was some of the best. He did not get a chance to finish his platter of food, however, because it suddenly vanished. Taking it that the feast was over, he, Arin, Lilith, and Gerald stood up.

"First years, this way!" A tall Prefect with a slightly upturned nose and long auburn hair was gathering the first years to lead them to Gryffindor Tower. Once she had them all rounded up, she led them in an orderly line up the stairs to what Nick assumed was the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. "By the way, I'm Emma Sharonwald, one of your Prefects this year," she said as she lead them to a portrait of an exceptionally chubby woman. "My counterpart, Rudolph Harris, is probably off breaking some rule. Why they made him a Prefect, I may never know.." She paused in front of the portrait. "The password for this week is 'Humdinger', so don't forget!" She stepped through the now-open portrait door, and the rest of the first years followed.

The interior of the Common Room was, in Nick's opinion, rather cozy. A large number of extremely comfortable chairs and couches were arranged around a roaring fireplace, occupied by a multitude of students. There were tables for studying at, and a number of large windows showcasing the gorgeous view from the top of Gryffindor Tower.

"Boy's dormitories are that staircase, girls are the other one," Emma announced to her captive audience, gesturing towards two spiral stairs towards the back of the Common Room. "Enjoy yourselves, but I'd recommend getting some sleep soon. Tomorrow's a big day for you lot." She walked over to a couch occupied by a couple of boys, one of whom, judging by the badge, was Emma's rambunctious colleague, Rudolph Harris, and started scolding the apparently unsatisfactory Prefect.

Nick and Gerald hung around the Common Room for a little while, but they were both quite tired, and soon felt it necessary to retire to their dormitories, and said their "good night"s to a few other Gryffindors before they turned in for the night. Halfway up the stairs, however, they heard a very strange noise.

"What is that?" Whispered Nick.

"Only one way to find out…" replied Gerald, blithely.

They emerged at the top of the staircase to find another first-year reclining on his bed, strumming a strange instrument neither Nick nor Gerald had seen before.

"Oh, hello" the boy hastily replaced the instrument in it's case, closed the lid, and slid it under his bed. "I'm Mordred Standell." He had shaggy black hair that fell to his shoulders, curling slightly at the bottom, and hard, brown eyes. Mordred extended his hand, and Nick and Gerald took it respectively.

"I'm Nick Raa," Nick said, pleased to meet another Gryffindor first-year who wasn't a prat.

"Gerald Weasely." Gerald seemed happy as well. "What was that thing you were playing?"

"Oh, that?" Mordred chuckled, apparently amused at the question. "That's a guitar." He paused for a moment, as if to think. "It makes sense that you've never seen one," he said quickly, as if to apologize, "It's a Muggle instrument, my dad gave me this one." He seemed proud to possess it, so Nick chose not to commentate. It was at this moment that Thomas walked in. "Hello, you lot," he muttered, before he walked over to his bunk, in the corner of the room, and pulled the curtains shut.

 _At least he wasn't insulting me…_ Nick thought. Nick looked for his bunk, and was surprised to discover that, along with all his other things, his raven, Vergil, was sitting on an ironwood perch at the foot of his four-poster. There was a note attached to the stand, which read,

 _Mr. Raa,_

 _Your raven is not able to be kept with the other owls in the Owlery, unfortunately, due to the fact that owls despise most ravens. As such, it is necessary that Vergil lives in your dormitory. Just make sure he has some way of getting out of the tower, I suggest leaving the window open._

 _Nathaniel Saberglass, Head of Gryffindor House, Professor of Defense against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts_

Nick showed the note to Gerald and Mordred, who both seemed surprised.

"Seemed awful young to be Head of House, doesn't he?" Gerald asked.

"He must be a really powerful wizard, then." Said Mordred.

"Must be."

Nick stroked the iridescent black plumage on Vergil's head, and then sat down, and rummaged in his trunk for one of his textbooks. Locating _Basic Charms and Incantations_ , he whipped out his wand. "Might as well practice some of these, prepare for classes and such." He flipped to a random page, twirled his wand, and shouted, " _Supercilious!"_ at a footstool on the opposite end of the dormitory. Instead of getting shinier and fancier, like it was said it would in the book, the footstool growled, and scuttled away down the stairs like an unusually comfy species of crustacean. Shouts of surprise and terror indicated that it was rampaging about the common room, before he heard Emma Sharonwald shout, "Look, it's gone out the door! Oh, if this gets traced back to Gryffindor…"

There was a moment of silence in the dormitory, before Gerald, Nick and Mordred all burst out laughing, almost crying with raucous laughter. Mordred was rolling on the floor, Gerald was grasping his stomach, and even Thomas had to restrain a grin.

"Bloody rubbish!" Nick threw the book back into his trunk, to even more laughter from the others.

"Don't feel too bad," said Mordred, consolingly, while Gerald and Thomas kept sniggering, "that was probably an advanced spell…"

Nick, however, was more confused about Thomas' behaviour than that of the footstool. He was being decent now, but he'd been a git back on the train. Perhaps Thomas simply found the company of others tiring, and it put him in a bad mood?

"Well, it's been lovely, but I think I'll turn in… 'Night Nick, Mordred, Thomas." Gerald slumped into his bed, pulled close the curtains, and could be heard snoring loudly within seconds. Nick nodded to Mordred and Thomas, who was already lying on his bed, and pulled the curtain closed on his. He quickly changed into some pajamas, and lay there in the dark, twirling his wand in his fingers. At some point Mordred must have gotten his guitar out again, because he heard a snippet of hauntingly beautiful music, the last thing he heard before he closed his eyes.

 **Alright, I know. That chapter was a little bit short. Deal with it. Sadly, only 5 people actually bothered to read the last chapter, but I salute those five! Besides, I write for fun, not success. I beg of you, please leave a review if you have any feedback. I can't get better if you lot don't tell me what I'm doing wrong. Cheers!**


	5. Chapter 5- Day One

**Hey all! And by all I mean the one person that read the last chapter. Good for you.**

Nick opened his eyes to the sight of the sun rising over the misty hills in the distance, creating gorgeous beams of golden sunlight that lanced through the windows of the dormitory, illuminating the room. For a split second he thought he was back in his bed at Barton Avenue, that it was just another day. But today was no ordinary day. Today was the day that his time at Hogwarts began.

Sitting up in his bed, he hurriedly put his robes on, and tied his shoes. Grabbed his wand, ran his hands through his hair, and stood up. Gerald and Thomas were already up, but by the sound of it Mordred was still fast asleep.

"Oi! Mordred!" Gerald kicked Mordred's bed, and a muffled grunt was emitted by the bundle of blankets within. "It's morning, you lazy-"

Mordred sat upright suddenly, his long, black hair unkempt and messy, eyes wild.

"Are we late?!"

Nick chuckled; he had felt the same way a few moments earlier. "Right on time, mate. Let's go get some breakfast."

The three of them marched down to the Great Hall, to find Lilith and Arin already there, looking over their schedules that had been handed out during the night.

"'Morning." Nick sat down next to Arin, Gerald took the seat opposite, and Mordred sat next to Gerald. Silently, Arin passed Nick his schedule as she continued to read hers.

"Hmm… double Defense… Transfigurations… Charms. Brilliant. Although," Nick said, looking slyly at Mordred and Gerald, who both struggled to contain their laughter, "I might have a bit of trouble in Charms…" The incident of the footstool was still fresh in Nick's mind, and for all he knew, that stool was still rampaging around the castle. Breakfast was in the process of being eaten when the mail began to arrive. Dozens of owls flew into the Hall, dropping their load of letters from parents, packages, and newspapers off to the students within. Nick spotted Vergil by his distinctive black feathers, and in a moment, Nick was holding a letter from his father while Vergil sat on his shoulder, a piece of sugary cereal clamped firmly in his beak.

Nick hastily opened the letter, and began to read:

 _Nick-_

 _Hope sorting went well. I know you're in Gryffindor now, Francis wrote me last night. I don't really care, as always I am proud to be your father. Write back as soon as you can, I want to hear how your first day goes._

 _Canan Raa_

Nick instantly felt a wave of relief wash over him. Since almost the founding of the school, the Raa family was always sorted into Ravenclaw, with Nick being the only exception. He had been worried about how his father would take this change in tradition, so this was welcome news indeed. Arin, on the other hand, had received no such letter of encouragement. Her family, the Malfoys, had always been sorted into Slytherin. She was looking through the latest issue of _The Daily Prophet,_ and she didn't look happy.

"Look at this," she muttered to Nick, passing the paper to him. He looked at the article she was referring to, and read:

 _ **Ministry doubles efforts to apprehend perpetrators of the Ratcliffe Incident**_

 _The new Ministry efforts will be led by Albus S. Potter, grandson of the Boy Who Lived and respected Auror. "We will have caught these criminals by Christmas, I assure you," Said Mr. Potter, in an interview last Wednesday, " They cannot escape us, they cannot resist us, we will crush them like a beetle under our heels. " For more information, turn to page 17._

Nick looked up at Arin. "You think they'll catch them? The rebels?"

Arin snorted. "The Ministry couldn't apprehend an elephant with four broken legs if it wandered into the Auror office. And those rebels are skilled wizards, so the Ministry's got no chance."

Several weeks ago, there had been an attack on Ministry employees near the Wizarding village of Ratcliffe, and the Ministry had since failed to catch the perpetrators. There was great speculation that this was only the beginning of a large uprising, led by the mysterious Order of the Blue Moon. The Order of the Blue Moon was a fierce but small group of rebellious witches and wizards that had been operating in Britain for years, but this was their biggest crime yet by far.

"You're probably right, as you usually are." Nick had known and been friends with Arin Malfoy for seven years now, and he couldn't recall a time where she had ever been wrong about current events, or anything else for that matter.

"Oi, you two." Mordred poked Nick in the shoulder jokingly, disturbing him from his reverie. "I think we'd better go…" Nick looked around, saw that they were the last ones left in the Great Hall, hurriedly followed Mordred, pulling Arin along behind him.

A few minutes later, they found the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, and settled into their seats. No more than five minutes later, Professor Saberglass swept into the room, wearing a richly embroidered doublet under his long, black jacket, resembling in some ways a Napoleonic dragoon. His bright cyan hair drew several confused glances from the students, but he took no notice. "Welcome, all." He twirled his wand, and the words, _Defense Against The Dark Arts_ appeared on the blackboard. His classroom was decorated with a peculiar blend of odd objects. Several sinister looking creatures in cages or tanks lined one wall, but another was covered in an array of bizarre weapons, including several large broadswords covered in silver runes, a few massive axes, and even a few old-fashioned Muggle firearms next to a case full of what Nick was sure were silver bullets.

"Yes, yes, welcome everybody, to your first lesson in my class." Saberglass was pacing up and down the classroom now. "You'll be learning some basic defensive spells in this class, as well as how to identify and defeat some simpler creatures, and other useful knowledge." He turned to face his audience with the air of a conductor about to lead an orchestra in song, a wide grin upon his face, marred only by the long scar on his cheek. "The first two spells we'll be doing will be the Disarming spell, and the Shield Charm, which are some of the most important spells for any wizard to master. The incantations for both of these spells can be found on the board"-he waved his wand, and they did- "so find a partner and start practising!"

It didn't take long for Nick, Gerald, and Arin to master the two spells, but Lilith was having trouble. Her Shield Charms were almost completely ineffective, and her Disarming was just as bad, so she left the class feeling frustrated at her apparent lack of talent for Defense. Gerald tried to console her, "Oh come on, it's only the first day…" but she was having none of it.

The next class they had was Transifguration, which instantly became Nick's least favourite subject. The professor, whose name was Gorlen Threnk, was perhaps the most unpleasant person that Nick had ever met. A hugely obese woman with very short, entirely grey hair, with big blubbery lips and small, beady eyes. In the first five minutes of class she had given Nick and Arin detention for talking, despite the fact that they were completely silent for the entire lesson. The woman's classroom was almost as bad, covered in smarmy posters encouraging obedience, and she smelled strongly of onions. Her dislike of Nick was amplified further by his inability to turn his needle into a twig, despite his best efforts. On the other hand, she doted over Thomas, proclaiming his skill even though he wasn't much better than Nick. Arin was exceptionally talented at Transfiguration, however, so she managed to turn her needle into a twig on the second try. Threnk paid this no notice. Feeling slightly disgruntled, the group headed down to lunch, where they were entertained by several fourth years who had jinxed themselves into pigs.

Charms went no better for Nick, although the professor, a very old man called Wharton, was much more understanding than Threnk had been.

"Don't worry, don't worry, Nicholas," he said in his wheezy voice as he returned the now-croaking book, which Nick was supposed to make laugh, to normal. "Charms are the most complex spells, especially for beginners…"

Nick simply toned him out. His father, brother, and mother had all been extraordinary wizards by all accounts. His father had been Head Boy and Quidditch Captain for Ravenclaw, and Francis, his brother, was a Prefect. Even his mother had been a Prefect, and was a member of the Quidditch team as well. Was he, Nicholas, going to be the disappointment? Would he be the outlier? He was so wrapped up in thoughts like these that he almost completely missed the rest of the lesson. It was only because Arin whispered to him that they needed to leave that he even realized that the class had ended.

"You alright, mate?" Mordred, who had done reasonably well in all subjects that day, looked at Nick with a flicker of worry, a seed of doubt in his eyes.

"Yeah, I'm alright, I suppose…" Nick tried to force a smile, but his heart wasn't in it. "I'm...I'm just mad about that detention with Threnk, is all." Mordred nodded knowingly. As if he detention, of course, was part of the reason that Nick was so worried, but not the whole reason either. Doubts about his own abilities were clawing their way up from the deep crevices of his brain, to gnaw on the back of his every thought, lurking in the back of his mind. He had always just assumed that he would have talent just like the rest of the Raa family, but did he really? It didn't seem like it…

He returned to these depressing thoughts as they returned to the Great Hall for dinner, and found himself almost unable to eat. Lilith and Gerald exchanged worried looks, but didn't say anything. It was Arin, who had always been his friend, that finally broke the silence.

"You need to eat, Nick."

"Not hungry," Nick muttered, although this wasn't true. He felt like he was starving, but he was too preoccupied with the looming detention to eat. It was precisely midnight when Nick and Arin knocked on the door to Professor Threnk's office. She opened it immediately, her grotesquely bulging figure silhouetted in the light of the lamps in her office.

"Ah, Mr. Raa, Miss Malfoy." Her voice was unusually deep for a woman, echoed in the corridor like the croak of a frog. "Tonight, you'll be polishing all the trophies in the trophy room, _without magic."_

Nick groaned internally; this would take _hours…._ He could feel his distaste for Threnk growing exponentially by the second. She led them to the trophy room, handed them their supplies, and promptly lumbered off. Arin sighed, then turned to Nick.

"You start with those awards for Quidditch over there, I'll take these suits of armor, I suppose."

Nick silently obliged, and began polishing up the Quidditch Cups and awards. _This may be boring, but at least it isn't painful or dangerous. I expected worse…_

There were photographs of the winning team beside each Cup. Nick was polishing the last one, which was tucked away in a bottom corner of the shelf, when he glanced at the picture. The Gryffindor team had won that year, apparently, because the seven players in the photo were wearing scarlet and gold robes. In the center of the lower bench, where the Seeker always sat for these photos, was Evelyn Dyntelsky. His mother. Nick had seen pictures of her, but they were always taken when she was an adult, not as a student. She was beautiful, with black hair and blue eyes, a thin, elegant frame-the perfect Seeker. And his mother had been in Gryffindor too… Why hadn't his father ever told him?

His rampant speculation was cut short by Arin's voice.

"Nick?"

He spun around, and instantly stepped back a few inches. She had been standing right behind him. "Christ, don't do that...you scared me…"

"What were you looking at? You've been sitting there staring at that picture for an hour."

Nick silently showed her the photograph. She seemed confused. "My mother," Nick whispered, "she was in Gryffindor, like me."

"Is she the pretty one in the middle? The Seeker?"

"Yes."

"I already cleaned the rest of the room. Come on." She gently took the photo from Nick's trembling hands, and replaced it on the shelf. "Let's go back…" She grabbed Nick's hand, and pulled him off to the Common Room. Nick was almost in a trance, a mixture of happiness and grief. It was reassuring to see he wasn't the first in his family to be sorted outside Ravenclaw after all, but seeing her reminded him of the part of his life he had never gotten to enjoy, the part that so many others took for granted…

 **Hey guys. This chapter was tricky to write, because I suck at writing. I have been pondering discontinuing this story, because nobody really seems to care about it. Review and tell me your opinion on how I could maybe do better next time. Cheers.**


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